You know what's disorienting? Floating in space, accepting your fate, trying to soothe your damn near traumatized boy in your last moments, and then finding yourself on some random train platform. Throws you off a little.
Yondu's immediately weak, gasping for a breath that his lungs desperately want after having it all seep out of him in that cold vacuum, dropping down to his hands and knees coughing. There's a piece of paper in his hand and he can barely pay attention to it right then. He doesn't even register that his clothes are different. The rucksack drops to the ground beside him as he hacks and catches all of that sweet oxygen he was missing out on not five seconds ago.
The blue man (every bit of him blue, even the inside of his mouth, the only exceptions being his red eyes, cybernetic headgear, and sharp teeth) wearing a blue team uniform leans back on his haunches. Yondu's finally taking a look around him, because this isn't really the afterlife somebody figures they'll run into. He squints, hands on his knees, nose crinkling up in utter, potent confusion.
"The hell is all this?"
Sleeper 1, Cabin B
He eventually finds his cabin. This whole thing seems shady as hell, but he's been in service to people before. He's been at a disadvantage. What you do is be quiet, lay low, do what you can when you have more info and got an opening.
He reckons that means he's playing along.
But boy, isn't that a pretty sight he finds in his rucksack when he finally digs all the way into it. Piling everything out onto his assigned bunk and there's a pretty little arrow. About a foot long, gold and with a glowing "ruby" towards the end. Well, well. Someone wants him to be able to act up at some point. Either they're a damn fool or they're smarter than he's givin' 'em credit for. Whichever it is, he smiles a jagged smile to see it again. Good friends make a new place a little less lonely.
He holsters it in a pocket of his cargo pants pocket for now. Awkward as it's half sticking out, but at least he can keep track of it that way.
Dining Car
He's getting his bearings, and that leads him to the Kitchen. He pokes around a little, trying to figure out what this is, what that is. Looks like a whole bunch of Terran machinery. There's some warm brown liquid meant for drinking. Smells strong.
He snags a mug, fills it up, and finds himself a seat in the dining car. Then he just sits, hands around the mug, letting it seep into his bones, closing his red eyes and trying to forget the feeling of the cold digging into his skin. Horrible needles of pain, so chilly it burned. It was just as horrible as he expected. He hoped it worked, he figured Quill's buddies'd be on top of picking him up. Hell of a shitty experience though.
He finally takes a drink.
"Yeah, this is terrible." But what does he do? Take another drink of it.
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Yondu's immediately weak, gasping for a breath that his lungs desperately want after having it all seep out of him in that cold vacuum, dropping down to his hands and knees coughing. There's a piece of paper in his hand and he can barely pay attention to it right then. He doesn't even register that his clothes are different. The rucksack drops to the ground beside him as he hacks and catches all of that sweet oxygen he was missing out on not five seconds ago.
The blue man (every bit of him blue, even the inside of his mouth, the only exceptions being his red eyes, cybernetic headgear, and sharp teeth) wearing a blue team uniform leans back on his haunches. Yondu's finally taking a look around him, because this isn't really the afterlife somebody figures they'll run into. He squints, hands on his knees, nose crinkling up in utter, potent confusion.
"The hell is all this?"
He reckons that means he's playing along.
But boy, isn't that a pretty sight he finds in his rucksack when he finally digs all the way into it. Piling everything out onto his assigned bunk and there's a pretty little arrow. About a foot long, gold and with a glowing "ruby" towards the end. Well, well. Someone wants him to be able to act up at some point. Either they're a damn fool or they're smarter than he's givin' 'em credit for. Whichever it is, he smiles a jagged smile to see it again. Good friends make a new place a little less lonely.
He holsters it in a pocket of his cargo pants pocket for now. Awkward as it's half sticking out, but at least he can keep track of it that way.
He snags a mug, fills it up, and finds himself a seat in the dining car. Then he just sits, hands around the mug, letting it seep into his bones, closing his red eyes and trying to forget the feeling of the cold digging into his skin. Horrible needles of pain, so chilly it burned. It was just as horrible as he expected. He hoped it worked, he figured Quill's buddies'd be on top of picking him up. Hell of a shitty experience though.
He finally takes a drink.
"Yeah, this is terrible." But what does he do? Take another drink of it.